What Doesn't Kill You
by Punkin717
Summary: When Sam retains the worst non-fatal injury either of them have ever recieved, Dean is willing to torture and kill to fix him. In the end, not Sam, Bobby, or Cas thinks it's such a bad plan. Rated T for language/gore. Possible trigger warning. Misleading summary, no actual torture.
1. Injured

"Sam?" Dean's voice echoed around the empty building. "Sam!"

Heavy wooden doors opened into a large room. Dean stepped in, glancing around for the attacker. Instead, his eyes landed on his brother laying unconscious in a large—and steadily growing—pool of blood. Dean's green eyes widened as he ran over to him.

"Damn it! What did she do?" he thought aloud angrily as he tried to lift his brother. "Sam, hey, what did she do to you? Sam, wake up—" His voice cut off as he saw the damage done to his only family. Sam's entire right arm, shoulder and all, had been violently cut off. Dean choked on his voice as he said, "Son of a bitch!" He gulped and shut his eyes momentarily before picking Sam up into a half-standing position. "Listen, Sammy, I need to get you patched up. You'll bleed to death before we can do anything."

With that, Dean pulled off his jacket and started wrapping it around the open wound, thoughts of regret not even passing his mind. After he completed, he began hauling Sam towards the door.

* * *

Dean glanced at his brother's still unconscious form. Sighing, he picked up his phone and began to call Bobby.

"Hello?" his father figure's voice came from the phone.

"Bobby, something happened. I'm coming to your house as fast as I can."

"Dean? Where's Sam?"

"He's here, but—" He stopped when he saw Sam stir. "I can't talk now. I should be there in a few hours." He clicked the phone off and turned to the tallest Winchester. "Sam?" he asked hopefully. Sam let out a quiet moan of pain and went back to how he had been for the past day—quiet and still. Dean turned back to the road, blaming himself for all this pain in his little brother.

* * *

The Impala pulled up to the house quickly. The driver's side door opened and Dean stepped out. He walked around to the passenger side quickly and started unbuckling Sam.

"Hey, hey, hey, come on, Sam—we're at Bobby's and we're gonna fix you up, okay? Here," Dean said while pulling his limp brother out. "Bobby!" he called out. "I need your help!"

Bobby opened the door to his house a minute later, a loaded gun in hand. Expecting to see a fight, the sight that met his eyes filled him with so much shock that he dropped his loaded gun. Dean was holding up his taller brother, mouth forming whispered words of comfort to him. The blond looked up and saw Bobby, his eyes guilty yet pleading.

"Dean shook his head. "Later. Just help me get him inside."

Bobby nodded and walked over to them. He went to the youngest's unoccupied side and gingerly put his arm around him. The two men gently heaved him to safety in silence.


	2. Help is Coming

The journey into the house alone was troublesome. Dean and Bobby had to carry Sam up and down many flights of steps and into the panic room, which they had decided was best. They worked quickly, bringing bandages, alcohol, and anything they thought they might need. Dean began pulling off Sam's blood soaked jacket and shirts whilst Bobby prepared the bandages. Dean hesitated momentarily before pulling off his ruined jacket being used as a bandage.

The jacket pulled away to reveal what only could be called a mess. More blood came pouring out of the severe injury that was Sam's arm. The body parts that usually made up the arm looked like part of a science project. Dean flinched away at the sight. He hadn't seen severed limbs up close often and certainly not those of his little brother. Bobby, however, advanced quickly with the bandage. He began wrapping the wound only to stop when Sam winced.

"Sam, you awake?" Dean asked slowly. He was met with a groan as a reply. Sam's eyes opened slowly and he coughed once—a hard cough that pulled him up at the torso and resulted in blood dripping from his mouth. His just focused eyes widened in horror.

"Sam, listen to me. I need you to lay back down. I need to finish patching you up," Bobby said, seemingly emotionless.

"Why do I need to be patched up?" Sam asked groggily with a confused expression. He tried to sit up. Unused to the lack of balance, he toppled onto his right, landing on his injury. His eyes widened, now clear of any drowsiness, as he turned his head to see the half-wrapped wound.

"Hold still, son. Let me finish patching you up." Bobby's soft side showed through the tough facade usually put up by the three of them.

Sam gasped through his teeth as the bandage touched his open wound. A bead of sweat rolled down his face as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Dean, go get some more whiskey," Bobby commanded. Dean dutifully obliged. He couldn't bear to see Sam in so much pain any longer. He was his little brother and all he had left. Dean had always looked after him and hell, he practically raised the guy. In his mind, it was all his fault that this had happened to him, his Sammy.

What could he do? He'd been to Hell and he'd rather not go back, not for this. Something clicked in his mind. Almost without thinking, he murmured, "Cas. Help. Please."

The angel's voice answered his call. "Hello, Dean."

Dean turned around and breathed a sigh of relief, though his face still showed the guilt and panic that was barely hidden. "Listen, Sam—"

"I know what happened. Let me see him," Castiel interrupted calmly. He began walking towards the door to the basement. Dean followed, grabbing the required bottle of whiskey on his way.


	3. To Heal

Castiel's first two fingers touched to Sam's forehead. Instead of drawing his hand away, a concerned expression crossed his face. Slowly, he pulled away. There had been no change.

"That is not an ordinary injury. Something's prove ting me from healing it. I... am of no use," Castiel diagnosed, his deep voice showing little emotion.

"So what does that mean?" Sam asked, voice tinted with sadness. It was clear that he had no hope of returning to normal from the way he sat, the way he fingered the large bandage, the way his face made no attempt to conceal it, the way his voice was hollow. That, above all, angered Dean.

"We'll find something out, damn it!" Dean replied in a way that could be only described as merciless. He would find some way to fix his little brother. He didn't want to see that expression on his face again, the look of true hopelessness. He'd seen it when their dad died and the seconds before he died, in every near death situation, but only a few times before when considering himself. Sam thought lowly of himself but was still human, still cared a bit.

"I will try to find something," Cas said, disappearing with a flap of his wings. And on that note, three men started their research.

* * *

Bobby leaned back in his chair. Warily, he looked over to the younger boys. Sam was splayed across the couch, a book on his chest and a large pile on the table next to his computer. He was sound asleep.

Dean, on the other hand, was still awake, although hardly. He had many empty beer bottles next to him. As his website loaded, he picked up the bottle next to him and took a large swig.

"Anything?" Bobby asked unexpectedly.

Dean shook his head before it rolled back slowly, a heavy breath escaping his nose and mouth. He took another gulp and finished the bottle.

"I think I know what it is," Castiel's voice came from the corner of the room where he had appeared.

Dean coughed down his beer, looking up. "Damn it, Cas, give a warning!" he said angrily after swallowing his drink.

"Sorry," the angel said, hardly a flicker of emotion on his face. He walked briskly to the sleeping boy and looked down at him. "I believe whatever did this cursed the wound so it wouldn't heal. We would have to undo the curse before anything else could be done." He paused before adding, "It might help if we knew what happened."

"We were on a hunt in Colorado," Dean began. "Found out really soon that it was a witch. All signs pointed to her living in this old church building, so we went to check it out."

"Ya' went out on a whim like that? Idjits!" Bobby interrupted.

Dean continued without acknowledgement. "Apparently we were right. Sam and I had gone in and found where she was keeping her witchy crap when he disappeared."

"Disappeared? How?" Castiel asked.

"I don't know. I just turned around and he was gone," Dean replied. "When I found him," he paused and gestured his head toward his brother, "his arm was gone and he was out of it. I—"

He was cut off by a moan from the couch. The three older men turned to see the sleeping boy turn over and begin to awaken.

Sam opened his eyes sleepily. He gazed around the room until his eyes focused and he realized he was being watched. He began to sit up but fell back over without the use of his right arm. His face flushed when he heard his brother snickering and he mumbled, "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean shot back, still laughing.

Cas spoke up. "Where in Colorado were you?"

"Colorado Springs," Dean answered, done laughing, "but what are we gonna do?"

"We will ask her to remove the spell," Cas stated simply, standing between the brothers and touching his hand to each of their heads. The trio disappeared with a flap of his wings.


	4. We Will Fix You

The three men appeared suddenly in the unlit church. Dean stepped forward, a determined expression etched across his face. He pulled out his gun and started walking ahead wordlessly.

"This is the room where I found Sam," Dean finally announced. He pushed open the doors with a frown set. Light streamed in to reveal a large room with odd symbols painted on all the walls and disturbing things seen in every witch's home. What drew their attention though was the large blood stain on the ground in the middle of the room. The dried blood had seen no attempt to be cleaned.

Sam froze. Suddenly, he remembered it all. Coming her with his older brother, finding her, getting taken. Her voice filled his head as the scene of his torture came rushing back to him.

"Well, what do we have here?" she had said mockingly. "If it isn't little Sammy Winchester. Oh, I have so much planned for you." She had pulled out a knife, commenting, "I usually wouldn't use these human weapons, but for you, I'll make an exception."

He was vaguely aware of his body hitting the floor, of Dean calling to him. He couldn't move. Perhaps it was fear that paralyzed him, or maybe the memory.

Wrong and wrong. "Nice little trick, right? One less hunter to take care of," the witch's voice came from the back of the room as she stepped forward. "Comes with the curse."

"You mother—" Dean said, trying to get to her angrily. He was cut off, as he always was before he finished that one insult, by Castiel, who simply stepped forward.

"Take off the curse," his deep voice commanded.

The witch laughed. "Or what? You'll kill me? Not much use to you dead, am I?"

"We'll make you," Bobby's accented voice told her before the owner knocked her out with a hard blow to her head with the back of his gun. "Come on, help me tie her up," he said to the men. "Where's Sam?"

"On the floor," the youngest's voice came from below all of them. Sam stood, slightly unbalanced by the lack of an arm on one side. "So what now?"

* * *

Water spilled from the tilted cup onto the witch, making her splutter and gasp into consciousness.

"Morning, sunshine," her captor's gruff voice drawled. "Figured we could make you a deal."

"Oh, and what would that be?" she asked.

"You take that curse off my brother," another voice stated angrily.

"And?" she pushed. A one sided deal wasn't a deal at all.

"And we make your death quick."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll beg for death until you do."

She looked at Dean, a cheeky expression on her face. "I have a deal for you. Your brother for my life." With that, she smirked.

Sam's eyes widened. He pressed his hand to his chest as he fell to his knees.

"Pity if he were to stop breathing," she cooed.

"You bitch!" Dean yelled, lunging for her. Cas and Bobby restrained him, both holding one of his arms.

"So how about it? You don't touch a pretty blonde hair on my head and your precious Sammy gets away unscathed. Well," she cut off, looking at him, "nothing new."

"Fine," Dean growled. Sam gasped, his breath labored. He rose to his feet once again, still breathing heavily. He cocked his head angrily.

"There. Now are any of you going to untie me?" she asked.

Dean walked to the chair, undoing the rope. She stood up, shaking her blonde hair down.

"Thanks, boys. It was fun."


	5. Epilogue

Sam, Dean, and Bobby sat among the study waiting for Castiel's arrival. He had left with the witch, saying he had "other matters to discuss."

Dean finally broke the silence, calling into the air, "Damn it, Cas! Will you come back here and fix my brother's arm before I just summon you?" He made the last part sound more like a command than a question.

"I said I would be a minute," the angel said from where he had appeared behind them. All three turned to face the newest arrival as he stepped towards the youngest. "This May hurt a bit," he warned, reaching up to touch his face.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, drawing in a sharp breath. He opened his eyes and turned his head, seeing his arm back in its place. He rolled his shoulder and stretched his arm out. A smile spread across his lips.

"Thanks," he said.

Just then, Dean's phone rang. "Hello?" he answered. He listened before replying, "Yeah, we'll be right there." He hung up the phone and turned to his brother. "C'mon, Sam. Just got a call up in Washington. Sounds like a ghost." He began walking out of the house.

Sam turned towards the others. He said his goodbyes and grabbed their bags, walking back towards the Impala.

Back towards home.


End file.
